Addicted Vs Obsessed Novels & Stories

"Your hatred is the fuel for my obsession. The more you despise me, the more I crave to break you—until you have nothing left but my name on your lips when you finally reach your breaking point." He didn't want my soul; he wanted my absolute submission. My mind rebelled, screaming at me to push him away, to find a weapon, to run—but my body was betraying me. The proximity of him was like a narcotic, a lethal, addictive pull that made my knees feel like water. I hated how much I wanted him to stop, yet simultaneously, I craved this ruin. I craved the intensity because, in a world where I had been discarded and killed, his obsession—however toxic—was the only thing that felt real.

"It's just too complicated and overrated." When I didn't reply, she continued, her voice rising with passion. "I can't understand why men always want to crawl back into a woman's life as soon as she tries to move on. I swear they have little detectors that tell them when the woman they've betrayed is starting to be happy again, so they can just move back in like the deceitful insects they are and ruin everything once more."

We should clearly know the difference between possessive and obsessive for this. Possessiveness is a good thing in a relationship up to a certain extent, when it goes beyond that it's just obsession. Possessiveness is showing your partner that she's yours and even jealousy is fine, it's normal. But understanding that you can't force her to do things because of that jealousy unless she wants to.. Obsession is wanting your partner to spend almost all their free time with you and getting jealous or angry if they hang out with their friends and leave you out.

He was really something else. I made my way towards the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror. My skin was flushed and there were red marks all over my neck and chest. I traced them with my fingers as a small smile played around the corner of my lips. He does know to pleasure a woman, I'll give him that. God, he was so fucking addicting, like a drug and I couldn’t get enough of him. I thought about all the women who had a share of him and felt a pang of jealously.

Fantasizing about fucking every inch of her, stretching her tight little holes, making her take my cock while she moaned my name like a prayer. Oh yeah. This was fucking dangerous. My jaw tightened. Fucking hell. She was an addiction, a drug-like obsession. And I have never been the type to get addicted to anything. Never been the type to care about anything. I didn’t care about her… not really. But I wanted her. And every time I saw her, that craving only fucking grew. There are two things you do with an unhealthy obsession: You either kill it or stay the hell away until it fades.

The most fucked up thing about addiction is when you realize that you are fucking addicted to something, whether it's alcohol or women, you say to yourself "This is my last drink." "This is the last I'll fucking taste her" But you know that you just can't fucking stop because addiction is like an obsession. It takes over your mind and every single thought. It is dangerous. Too dangerous for a man in power like me. But Goddamn did she feel good. If I had fucked her right there on that lounge chair, I'm sure this addiction would have subsided but I can't do that to her, make her first time a brutal memory. I can make her feel good but that was just it.

*** ~~~ CHANCÉ~~~ *** Since the last time River and I had sex, I’ve been thinking about that moment nonstop. I feel like a drug addict in withdrawal — conflicted, restless, and completely obsessed. Am I an addict? I don’t know, but if you can’t stay away from something and you obsess over it every second, then yeah… I guess I am. My drug is sex with River Dawson. I can’t stop craving it, so instead, I’m avoiding him.

“Sometimes love and obsession are one and the same. Sometimes you can’t tell them apart because they’re no different. Love is thinking of someone every day, wanting to be with them all the time, needing to know everything about them. Just like an obsession is.” “It goes past obsession, Nana.” “Addiction? You think love ain’t addiction, girl? Have you ever been in love?” I shook my head. “Then you’re shittin’ yourself if you think there’s a difference. I was addicted to your grandpa because he was my best friend and my lover. I needed him to live, and now that he’s gone, a part of me is dead. Because I love him.” “I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

I’m even addicted to the shape of her cute, pouty lips whenever she’s upset with me. I never thought I’d get any more addicted to Amani until we had sex. It was rough, fast and a sweaty, hot mess, but ever since I heard her beautiful, high-pitched screams of pleasure while she orgasmed; ever since I felt her tight, wet pussy squeeze my cock, my obsession has spiraled out of control. My addiction is a thousand times more potent than before. My possessiveness is bordering on violence. She shouldn’t have let me cum inside her. Now I’ve stamped my permanent mark on her.

We both laughed, getting into our own business, forgetting the conference meeting we were to attend. "I love you, Eve and I'll forever love you. You're my life and joy. My Obsession, I can't do without you, forever." I said. "I love you too, Justin. Mr Obsession." She teased and we laughed.